


don't leave till you're finished

by wreckingtomlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Football Player Louis, M/M, Smut, University Student Liam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckingtomlinson/pseuds/wreckingtomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there’s any way to add to the high of the afternoon’s victory and the buzz of the alcohol, it’s sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't leave till you're finished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littlepinkbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlepinkbow/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: Louis is a famous football player & after a match, celebrating a big win he meets a fan. One thing leads to another - well actually, it led to the bathroom where they drunkenly hooked up. 
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> Title from [Where Is My Head](https://youtu.be/GRrvAZ1IjTo) by Hey Monday.

There’s nothing better than a win, Louis decides as he’s nearly crushed between the bodies of his teammates.

It’s addicting, is what it is, to watch the ball come off his foot and hit the back of the net, to hear the roar of the crowd when his team scores, and rush into a team pile, shouting at the top of his lungs, when the clock runs out and they’ve won.

Chelsea finishes with a clean sheet, a neat 3-0 victory over Arsenal, and Stamford Bridge is going absolutely mad. Louis thinks he might be, too.

One of the defenders bounds over on the way into the locker room, punching Louis in the ribs with his elbow and laughing. “Fuckin’ sick, mate!”

Louis barks out a laugh and jostles Niall right back. “Fuck yeah, I saw that tackle.”

“Worth the penalty,” Niall says cheerfully as the locker room door swings shut, shutting the two dozen of them inside. Louis showers off quickly before lying down on one of the tables to let Harry, his trainer, massage his calf muscles.

This is probably his favourite part. It’s always more fun to return to the locker room and celebrate, rather than mentally nitpick his performance and wonder if one little slip is the reason they lost. Today, though, is a winning day, so Louis doesn’t think too much about that. Around him, the room is abuzz with everyone getting dressed, showering off, and congratulating each other on a match well-played. Louis can already see the headlines and the photos in the next day’s papers.

As though he can read Louis’ mind, Niall pops up next to his head. “Think tomorrow’ll be the day I get my photo in the _Sun_?”

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” Louis tells him with a grin, sitting up and thanking Harry before raising his voice so he can be heard over the hubbub. “Drinks on me tonight!”

The locker room erupts in cheers, while Niall looks at Louis like he’s just been put on the English national team.

“You’re the best captain ever,” Niall says, reaching out to smack Louis on the bum. Yeah, winning is definitely more fun.

Several hours later, they’re all in their second—or is it third?—pub of the night, Louis has lost Niall to some girl with blonde hair in a corner somewhere, and his teammates are scattered around, everyone pleasantly wasted and having a grand old time. Louis is no exception—his teammates take the piss out of him for getting drunk faster than any of them, but Louis likes it. A few beers in and he’s ready to do just about anything. Or anyone, for that matter.

“Hey, you’re Louis Tomlinson!” shouts a voice in his ear that Louis can only barely hear over the noise in the pub.

“Yeah, I’m—well, hello.”

The speaker is taller than Louis, not enough that he towers but Louis has to tilt his head up slightly anyway. From what he can make out, the other male has one of those honest faces: big kind eyes with a little crease at the corner from smiling, and a jaw that looks strong but not too strong. He’s got a nice face, really, and if Louis reaches out and pulls the guy closer, he’d say it was so they could talk without shouting. Or chalk it up to drunkenness.

“Saw your match today. Nice goal.”

Louis grins, pleasantly surprised. He does get noticed when he’s out from time to time, but it’s not often that they actually want to talk about his sport. About two-thirds of them are female fans who want a selfie and maybe a hug or kiss on the cheek, which he doesn’t mind, but when people talk football with him, he feels _appreciated_.

“Thanks, mate. You at the stadium, or just watching on telly?”

“Nope, I was there. Got season tickets.” The man grins and Louis thinks he looks an awful lot like a puppy. “Sorry, I’m Liam.”

“Liam, right then.” Louis tries to thump him on the back but he thinks he misses and catches Liam on the bum instead. Oh, well. “Big Chelsea fan, yeah?”

“Been a blue my whole life,” Liam says proudly, catching Louis’ hand as he tries to pull it away. In his drunk state, Louis just stares at wrist caught in Liam’s grip for a second, registering how big Liam’s hand is.

“Wait, what?” Louis blinks, sure Liam said something else after that.

Louis can’t tell, but he thinks Liam blushes before letting go of Louis’ wrist. “I said sorry.”

“For what, having big hands?” Louis blurts out before mentally slapping himself for saying that out loud.

Liam laughs, which Louis takes as a good sign. “Um, thanks? But I said sorry. For like, touching you like that.”

“You can touch me all you’d like, love,” Louis assures him, patting his arm and giving him a tipsy smile. “You’re blushing again. You do that a lot.”

“I do.” Liam’s cheeks are in fact pink again, and his hand is suspended awkwardly in midair, as though he wants to touch but he doesn’t know where.

Huffing, Louis takes his hand and moves it to rest on his waist. “There we are. So tell me about you, Liam.”

“Well.” Liam fidgets for a second, fingers gripping uncertainly at the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “I’m Liam. I’m 21, almost finished with uni. Uh, studying architecture.”

“Architecture, mm.” Louis nods, doing his best to appear interested when all he’s really focused on is Liam’s hand, warm and a little bit heavy but not doing anything, which Louis doesn’t like at all. “Architecture is nice.”

“You think so?” Liam grins again and Louis can’t help but think how unfair that happy puppy grin is. “Most people think it’s kind of weird. My flatmate’s studying English, which my mum thinks is more useful.”

Louis shakes his head. “Rubbish. Buildings are very, very important.” In all honesty, he’d really like to skip the small talk and get to the part where they decide to shag, or at least sit in the corner and snog till the pub closes, but Liam seems disappointingly uninterested. Shame. He has such nice hands.

“What’s a shame?”

Oh, shit. “Fuck, did I say that out loud?” This time Louis actually slaps himself, clapping a hand to his forehead and groaning dramatically. “Ignore me. I need to stop.”

Liam chuckles lightly. “I still want to know what the shame is.”

“These.” Louis taps at where Liam’s hand is _still_ on his waist. How has he not moved it in ten minutes? “Your hands are so nice but you’re like…”

“I’m what?” Liam looks incredibly offended, and Louis immediately feels bad.

“No, not like—you’re very fit, is the thing? Which is nice, and your hands are nice, but you’re too... _nice_?” The more he talks, the more Louis thinks he should have taken that radio host back to his last weekend. Surely he wouldn’t be like this if he weren’t so sexually frustrated.

“You think I’m fit?” Liam repeats, and Louis thanks heaven that that’s the thing Liam has decided to fixate on in that whole mess of an explanation. So he just rolls his eyes.

“Of course,” he drawls, dragging out the word. Liam still looks a bit surprised—or confused, but it makes to difference to Louis—so Louis curls his hand around the back of Liam’s neck and drags him down for a kiss.

For as shy as he seems, Liam is a very good kisser. It only takes him half a second to respond, lips parting against Louis’ while both hands—fucking _finally_ —loop around his waist, settling on his hips. Louis nips at Liam’s lower lip to be playful, but Liam’s response is to growl slightly and pull Louis closer. The reaction is more than Louis would have hoped for, and the sound goes straight to his stomach. He knows that feeling, and he knows what it means.

So he detaches their lips but doesn’t pull back, feeling Liam’s hot breath on his cheek.

“What’s the matter?” Liam asks, eyebrows scrunched with worry.

“What do you want?” Louis asks by way of an answer.

“You?” It comes out as a question, a shy word spoken with a bit of hope.

“Yeah.” Louis gives him another smile, fingers reaching up to find a lock of hair and tug on it gently.

“My place or yours?”

Louis shakes his head. “Too far. Toilet. Want you now.”

He expects some kind of protest, but instead they’re stumbling toward the back of the pub, where Louis knows there’s a single-use toilet. Hopefully it’s unoccupied.

It is, and he pulls Liam inside before slamming the door shut and kissing him again. His back is pressed to the door, the metal cold on his back while Liam snogs him, more insistently this time, tongues and lips smacking with the occasional click of teeth.

Liam’s walking them to the left, toward the sink, and the next thing Louis knows is the counter digging into the small of his back. With a soft mmph, he leans back, hands on the counter to keep himself upright, as Liam pulls back.

In this light, Louis can get a good look at Liam’s features—warm eyes, brown hair styled into some kind of quiff or semi-quiff, and a small birthmark on his neck. Without thinking, Louis leans forward to kiss it, tracing the tip of his tongue around the spot and sucking at it. Liam growls again and tugs Louis back. “Can I?” he asks, dropping to one knee and running his palm over the growing tent in Louis’ tight jeans.

“Yes, yes, please.” Louis shuts his eyes, trying to suck in a breath. How he’d gotten so lucky tonight was beyond him, but he wasn’t about to complain.

The door swings open suddenly and Louis blanches. Fuck, if anyone were to see him like this—

“Niall, get your arse out of here, you fucking loser!” he shouts upon registering the shocked face poking in from behind the door.

“Sorry!” Niall slams the door, leaving Louis deathly pale and Liam a bright red.

“Should’ve locked that,” Liam mutters, getting up to slide the lock into place. “Right then, where were we?”

“Come on, hurry.” Louis has already unzipped his jeans and starts to shimmy out of them. With Liam’s help, they hit the floor in a pile, leaving his bottom half clothed only in his pants.

“Yeah, yeah.” Liam takes his place on the floor again, nosing at Louis’ hardening cock through the fabric, drawing a moan from the other male.

“Don’t tease,” Louis complains.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Inexplicably, Liam pauses for another grin, this one cheeky, before pulling Louis’ cock out and immediately sucking it into his mouth.

“Fuck.” Louis throws his head back, feeling it hit the mirror behind him. Liam’s doing something with his tongue, dragging it up the underside of Louis’ length and then swirling it around the head each time he comes up, that has Louis’ head going light and his toes curling. His hips begin to twitch, making tiny little thrusting motions into Liam’s warm mouth. “Fuck, Liam, need more.”

Liam comes up with one last sweep of his tongue, and Louis almost chokes at the sight of how red his lips are. “What do you want?” he asks, echoing Louis’ query from earlier.

Louis wants a lot of things, but right now he knows what he needs is a good fuck. “Fuck me.”

“Do you have…” Liam hesitates.

Louis points to the jeans discarded on the floor. “Condom and lube, back pocket.” While Liam searches for those, Louis pulls his pants off, dropping them on the floor as well. Yeah, he needs this. He hasn’t been fucked properly in weeks, and if there’s any way to add to the high of the afternoon’s victory and the buzz of the alcohol, it’s sex.

When Liam comes up, he’s got both packets in one hand and is palming himself with the other. Judging from the bulge, Liam’s seriously packing, and it only makes Louis more impatient. “Come _on_.” He snatches the packet of lube and starts tearing it open, intending to open himself up if Liam doesn’t get a move on, but the next thing he knows his back is on the counter and Liam’s slick fingertips are prodding at his hole.

“Jesus…” The counter isn’t deep enough for him to lie down all the way, so Louis props himself up on his elbows to watch. Liam has a mix of arousal and determination on his face as he spreads Louis' thighs wide and pushes one finger in, an expression that Louis can’t help but find incredibly hot. “Another, come on.”

Liam obliges, fitting another finger inside. Louis can feel the stretch a bit, his hole contracting around the new fingers deep inside him. Biting back a moan, he watches, mesmerized, as Liam’s knuckles disappear into his hole, breath quickening at the feeling of being full once again. By the time Liam adds a third finger, Louis is whining again, all but begging for more.

Liam, bless him, doesn't keep him waiting long. Louis' eyes slip closed as he feels Liam's cock against his hole, the sweet pressure as he slides in and bottoms out and draws a long moan from Louis. Liam fucks him hard, barely pulling out at all before slamming back in, keeping his cock deep in Louis’ arse. Louis is sure Liam had been deliberately avoiding his prostate earlier, but now neither of them are holding back; Liam’s panting with each thrust, Louis’ gasping each time his bundle of nerves is hit, and the sound of skin on skin fills the small toilet.

“Fucking—god, Liam, m’close,” Louis manages breathlessly, shifting his weight so he can get a hand on his cock.

“Yeah, me too, your _arse_ , fuck.” Liam gives him three more deep thrusts before he hits his climax. Louis comes shortly after, arms shaking as he spills over his abs.

For the next few minutes it’s quiet as they both catch their breath. Then, slowly, Liam pulls out, and Louis promptly leans over to grab a tissue to mop up the mess on his stomach and between his legs.

“See you at next week’s match?” Liam quips, as he chucks the tied-off condom in the bin, and Louis chuckles.

“No, I want to see you before then. Should go for coffee or something sometime,” Louis suggests before he can think about it.

But Liam’s face lights up and Louis is kind of glad he hasn’t been thinking about his words tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> WELL THAT'S THAT I HOPE YOU LIKED IT x


End file.
